Even when there is no star in sight
by Luffywhatelse
Summary: I thought about Ed's moments of sadness, his nightmares, his guilty conscience and maybe feelings of inadequacy. And then I added Winry who helps him when he's physically and literally in pieces. It's set in Resembool after the fight against Scar.


Completely immersed in water, holding his breath, he opened his eyes and came face to face with the woman who was watching him: a shiver ran down his spine and the boy sank even further, bumping on the warm bottom of the bathtub.  
His mother Trisha just smiled, with chapped lips, giving way to a silence so deafening that Ed's eardrums were like about to rupture.  
_It's all physics, the pressure is blocking my upper airway, I need to keep calm_ – his thoughts were faster than light, so he just exhaled – _"gas sylvester", carbon dioxide out of my lungs.  
_He laid still, until his survival instinct kicked in and made him emerge from the water as he continued to stare at the vivid apparition in front of him.  
Now Edward was no longer holding his breath but felt trapped anyway; a cold windblast chilled him to the bones.  
He kept his gaze on her, sitting on the opposite edge of the tub.  
"Hi sweetheart, you need some help?"  
His heartbeat quickened wildly; his eyes widened noticing her approaching him, graceful and loving as always as he stood petrified. The woman ran her fingers through her son's wet blond hair, softly touched his face, and then placed her hand on the boy's sore right shoulder.  
"I was starting to think you'd forgotten me," she spoke in a sad voice kneeling at the side of the tub. "Don't be scared of me, Ed," she whispered in his ear, her lips resting on his forehead while he blinked overwhelmed.  
Then the woman moved away enough to look into his eyes, her expression became serious, her look darkened; she creeped him out.  
"You're even more feckless than you were as a child, or maybe you haven't changed a bit," she pronounced those words a few inches from his face, looking him straight in the eyes. "Do it, Edward," she said imposing upon him but always keeping the distance, "Come to me once and for all." The boy's breathing became faster and, suddenly, in the distance, a familiar voice called his attention:  
"Edo!"  
He opened his eyes, immediately sat up in the middle of the tub and took a deep breath as the water spilled on the floor.  
The steamy tiles in front of him looked like they were covered with tears. He sat for a moment in the ripples, clenched his left fist, grinding his teeth as a persistent ringing tormented his ears.  
"Edo" the voice he thought he dreamed along with everything else was clear now. He looked up to the left, meeting those blue eyes.  
He stayed like that for a few seconds, breathing heavily until that empty silence was filled again by the sounds of life around him. He felt reassured, everything had found its place and he gradually came back to reality: the mirror above the sink was completely fogged, the towels were white and fluffy.  
He instantly remembered.

Edward hadn't slept very much and was in a bad mood. His automail arm was still under repair after being destroyed in a thousand pieces and even just that made him very angry; then he couldn't even toss and turn in his bed. At times he almost got the feeling it would have been better not to have any automail: because of the fact he was used to them, he took for granted every basic movement that he shouldn't have been able to make.  
But there were still a few days of unbearable discomfort waiting for him, at least until Winry had repaired the automail. Still in bed, he rubbed his aching neck, stood up and, limping on his temporary leg, moved on to Winry's laboratory. He found her sitting, bent over the table, and working. This also irritated him: knowing that she probably didn't go to sleep at all just to complete those repairs as quickly as he had asked her. He felt guilty, even though he knew he needed it.  
Outside it was a gloomy day, befitting his mood, and he got a little bit of a headache. _Just what we needed_ – he thought to himself.  
He entered the bathroom and remembered when brushing his teeth with his left hand was a challenge while now, after four years of training, he was completely used to it. He opened the water in the tub. The blowing of the hot water suddenly brought him back to a few days before, during the fight with the Ishvalian who had destroyed his mechanical arm. It was pouring rain and Edward got knocked down, on the wet ground. Scared, he had tried to back away and escape from Scar heading straight for him but, in that moment of weakness, he had practically forgotten he no longer had an arm and so, instinctively believing that he had put his right hand on the asphalt behind him, he was lying facedown, slamming his right side into the puddle of rainwater, with no support. Shocked, insecure. Helpless.  
If the idea of being out of play for a few days made him mad, not being sufficiently self-reliant was even worse. Despite this, he felt the need to take a bath.  
With a finger he grabbed the shirt behind his neck and tried to take it off, but he was so angry that he ended up in a maze of cloth that made him feel inside a straitjacket; he got out of it finally ripping it with a disjointed movement and a roar of rage. Exasperated, he took off his boxers and slid into the tub. He sat down and felt the anger piling up; he knew very well that it was foolish, but he couldn't do anything about it: phantom limb pain, trouble and frustration had always had that kind of effect. They made him angry and angry, generating a circle of pathetic thoughts. Sometimes, instead of pushing him to get to the end of the matter, that whirlwind of emotions depressed him horribly. There he was: a boy of barely fifteen, a disabled and increasingly pissed off State Alchemist, who had only hard knocks throughout his life, now was also pathetic, without an arm and with a prosthesis instead of his left leg that made him seem even more invalid.  
Flooded with those anxieties but extremely tired, he had ended up falling asleep in the tub, exhausted. 

"Edo, are you alright?"  
Winry was on the door and he, still lost in his thoughts and his bubble bath, saw her enter. "Come on, I'll help you," she said.  
"Wh-what?" he asked, caught unawares.  
But she didn't give him time to reply, "You were asleep in the tub," she said. With gestures that seemed so coordinated to him, the girl knelt next to the tub and wiped away a few drops of water – or maybe they were tears he hadn't realized crying – on his face, under his puffy and tired eyes.  
A dejavu brought him back memories; she had done the exact same gesture as they were kids and he told her he was afraid Al hated him. His eyes were covered with a cold cloth that was used to help the fever go down. She had it shifted to the right, finding his tears and drying them with care and apprehension. At that moment, Edward hadn't felt exposed after showing her his sadness. He had allowed himself to be consoled – for as much as he could find comfort in such a situation – by that touch and that look which was so full of affection that had reminded him of his mother's, in some ways.  
"Can I wash your hair?" she called him back to the present.  
He nodded, even this time deciding to let her do that. Conscious of the pout that still puckered his lips and that he was unable to pave, exactly like when he let his mom treat his scraped knees as a child.  
"Then lift up your head."  
He obeyed, adjusting his back a little. She opened the water and guided his hand to take the shower head. Ed leaned back with his torso, keeping his arm up.  
The touch of Winry's hands on his head was the first pleasant experience after nearly twenty-four hours of distress and sent a bolt of pure electricity down his spine. The bad mood was dissolving as if it was washed off. Her hands began to draw small regular circles on his skull, dwelling in some points. Edward left his own shoulders drop a few inches, realizing he had kept them tense all the time.  
"Lift your head again, so I can rinse your hair."  
He raised his left arm, which he had relaxed in the meantime, and squeezed the shower head before reaching back. The soft caress of the water was pleasant, but not as much as Winry's touch while she took great care to ensure that not even a drop fall into his eyes.  
She turned the water off again.  
He lowered his head, still a little lost in the pleasure of that feeling. How long had it been since he felt pampered like that? When was the last time he had dared to put his pride aside?  
Like he had already done before with his tears, now Ed decided to ignore the warmth in his heart and the need to let go completely and let off steam. He stretched his lips in a grimace trying to hold back that river in flood but the sweet taste of Winry's tenderness reassured him.  
"Can I wash your back?" once again she didn't hesitate waiting for his answer and, with the same careful gestures, neither too slow nor too fast, poured the bubble bath on her hands and then rub them together, meticulously.  
The contact of her hands on his shoulders caused him another shiver and this time he wasn't able to contain it: his whole body shook under her touch. She seemed not to notice it and ran her hands over his shoulders and arm, down to his wrist. He felt the wrinkle in the space between his eyebrows disappear. She rubbed his shoulders up to his chest with energetic gestures that weren't sensual at all, but he still had goose bumps. He didn't dare look at himself, his body looked awkward, so he closed his eyes and gave himself up. He felt her spread the soap on his skin, even where the skin became more sensitive to tickling.  
He kept his eyes closed, his breath stuck in his throat when she stopped. It was a moment that seemed to go on forever.  
_What happens now?_ He wondered. The sound and the heat of water were the only answers to his question. She was rinsing his body, always with the greatest care, which now began getting on his nerves: _Why? Why is she doing it?_ The question suddenly crept into Edward's mind. Not only she was working hard on his automail, giving him priority over any other job she had to complete. But now this. He felt kind of useless.  
_You're even more feckless than you were as a child_, those terrible words Ed's unconscious had made his mother say were in his head like a scream that went on and on. And insecurity came back aggressively. Did Winry act out of pity? He didn't want her pity!  
Then the water stopped flowing again.  
"I'll get you a towel," she said.  
She wrapped his hair in the towel and, once again, he was impressed by her manual dexterity. Winry's face was a few inches from Ed's but he suddenly looked down.  
"Thank you…" he whispered. His hand reach out to her and then grab her wrist, "Now just get out… please, Winry."  
The girl didn't speak but silently and gently put her hand on his shoulder and stood up. Edward, not showing it, surrendered himself and focused on her touch. He felt Winry was _truly_ by his side and connected to him; that wasn't like a touch that's perfunctory or detached, it was warm, loving, _grounding_ and gave him a sense of calm stability that immediately made him feel safe.  
And just like that, Ed felt that everything made sense again.


End file.
